


Weak

by CrimsonChocolate



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Hate Sex, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24168400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonChocolate/pseuds/CrimsonChocolate
Summary: As he looks into Saruhiko's cold blue eyes, the hairs on Misaki's nape stand up– they're intense, predatory, and Misaki would rather set himself on fire than admit that he feels the slightest bit vulnerable right now.
Relationships: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki
Comments: 4
Kudos: 126





	Weak

**Author's Note:**

> For Van – I really hope this fic meets your expectations, and that you enjoy it! I've had so much fun writing it! ❤

It's a hot day in Shizume Town.

The sun is blinding and overwhelming in its intensity, causing more people to flock to the hustle and bustle of the city, and making clothes stick to sweat-soaked skin in a matter of minutes. 

Which is why Misaki decides to sit cross-legged, deep within a quiet alley filled with cool, dark shadows. He cracks open his soda. 

The liquid is cold and refreshing on his tongue. Misaki savours it for a moment before swallowing. A small sigh of gratitude leaves his lips.

Music from Misaki's headphones flows into his ears, overpowering the sound of people chattering and walking past the mouth of the alley with ease.

It doesn't take Misaki long to finish his drink. 

Crushing the empty can in his fist, he lights it in a burst of crimson flame, before throwing it. Misaki watches as the can lands on the ground a distance away from him, and transforms into a pool of liquid metal, the fire gradually going out.

Leaning his back against the wall, Misaki closes his eyes and relaxes, listening to his favourite songs play in succession.

Then, just as the tension is leaving his body, Misaki feels his skin prickle with a sense of foreboding.

Misaki's eyes shoot open, only to see a pair of polished boots come to a stop in front of him. His gaze travels upwards, instantly recognising the fancy blue uniform, and lopsided smirk. 

Misaki pulls down his headphones in time to hear a voice he knows all too well.

"Found you."

"Saruhiko!" Misaki snarls, quickly jumping to his feet.

Saruhiko's grin widens. "Ah, that's a good expression you have on your face, Misaki."

Scowling even more, Misaki's hands ball up into fists.

"What the fuck do you want, Saru?"

Saruhiko tilts his head slightly. "It's been a while, and I was getting bored… didn't you miss me?"

Misaki scoffs. "As if I'd miss a traitor." he lies. "Get out of my sight before I kick your ass."

A twisted chuckle escapes Saruhiko's mouth.

"What makes you think I'll let you win, Misaki?" he responds, deliberately emphasising each syllable of Misaki's name.

It doesn't take long for Misaki to snap.

"Stop using my first name, you cocky bastard!"

Misaki aims a punch at Saruhiko's smug face, only for the other to draw his sword and block the attack. 

"Make me, Misaki."

They continue to clash constantly, Misaki defending against each swing of Saruhiko's sword, as Saruhiko dodges and blocks every punch and kick.

They linger in stalemate for a while, dancing around each other in the throes of combat.

All up until Saruhiko sneakily launches one of his knives. 

A sharp pain rushes through Misaki's upper arm, followed by the sound of the dagger planting its point into the wall behind him barely a second later.

Misaki hisses, glaring at Saruhiko, his hand reaching across to press on the wound instinctively. Warm blood dyes his torn sleeve from white to red, and seeps through his fingers.

"Didn't you say you were going to kick my ass?" Saruhiko crows, stepping closer.

"Shut the fuck up." Misaki growls, standing his ground. 

Suddenly, Saruhiko rushes at Misaki, who doesn't manage to avoid him in time, and grabs the front of his oversized sweatshirt. Misaki feels the air being knocked out of him as he's slammed against the brick, only inches away from the embedded knife. 

Saruhiko's face is too close, fists still curled in white cotton. As he looks into Saruhiko's cold blue eyes, the hairs on Misaki's nape stand up– they're intense, predatory, and Misaki would rather set himself on fire than admit that he feels the slightest bit vulnerable right now. 

Misaki opens his mouth, about to cut the strange tension between them with an insult, but the words die on his tongue.

Saruhiko kisses him violently, his teeth and lips colliding messily with Misaki's. It hurts, just like the day Saruhiko left HOMRA. Left _him._

Misaki bites down on Saruhiko's bottom lip, piercing the skin. With a surprised moan, Saruhiko pulls back a little, tongue darting out briefly to taste the blood.

"You're like a wild dog, Misaki– no wonder you've never had a girlfriend." 

Misaki can still feel Saruhiko on his lips. 

_The reason I've never had a girlfriend is because you fucking ruined me,_ he wants to yell, but instead, the only thing that comes out is:

"Fuck you."

Smiling wryly, Saruhiko releases his handfuls of cotton material– only to grab Misaki's wounded upper arm with one hand, eliciting a shriek of pain as he holds it against the wall. Then, Saruhiko sneaks his other hand beneath Misaki's sweatshirt.

Shudders run through Misaki's body as Saruhiko's warm fingers caress the bare skin of his stomach and continue to travel higher, gentle in contrast to Saruhiko's rough handling of his injured arm.

"Saru…" Misaki breathes shakily, physically confused by the dichotomy of Saruhiko's actions, "What are you– ah!"

Misaki gasps as Saruhiko thumbs at one of his nipples, which soon hardens under Saruhiko's touch.

"You've always been sensitive here," Saruhiko says, causing Misaki's cheeks to heat up.

"G–get off me, Saru!"

_You lost the right to touch me like this after you betrayed me._

Ignoring Misaki's verbal resistance, Saruhiko teases the hardened nub between his fingertips, rubbing and pinching it lightly. Saruhiko also presses his thigh up against his groin, drawing out a choked moan from Misaki.

"Even when you're trying not to be, you're loud." Saruhiko comments, voice clouded with arousal.

He lets Misaki's upper arm go in favour of pulling out his knife from the wall and holding the blade to Misaki's throat. Misaki swallows involuntarily, his Adam's apple nearly grazing the cold silver.

Perplexed, Misaki searches Saruhiko's facial features for some sort of explanation, until Saruhiko's other hand comes out from under the sweatshirt, and his index and middle fingers stop before Misaki's lips.

"Suck them." 

Misaki narrows his eyes at him.

"And if I don't?"

"You'll regret it." Saruhiko replies simply, glancing at his weapon, before his gaze lands on Misaki's face again.

Without any further hesitation, Misaki reluctantly allows Saruhiko to shove his fingers into his mouth, feeling his dick stir when Saruhiko continues to grind his thigh against it. An unwelcome sense of familiarity kicks in as Misaki thoroughly wets both digits, making his body warm despite being in the shade.

Misaki notices a slight flush on Saruhiko's pale cheeks, which makes his heart race even more. _Damn it._

"That's enough." Saruhiko says, visibly aroused. Then, he pulls his fingers from Misaki's mouth, a string of saliva connecting them, before Misaki licks his lips out of habit, breaking it.

Without warning, Saruhiko swiftly puts away his blade, grabs Misaki, forcefully flipping him around to face the wall, then yanks down his shorts and boxers in a single motion, making Misaki gasp in alarm and brace his hands against the brick.

_Holy shit. This is really happening._

Saruhiko inserts one slick finger.

"Ah, Saru!"

Misaki knows for a fact he could be resisting a lot more, but his body craves Saruhiko's touch, despite still feeling angry and hurt emotionally.

Which is why Misaki finds himself bucking into Saruhiko's fist after he wraps it around his semi-stiff cock, feeble protests falling from Misaki's lips.

He feels Saruhiko's hot breath tickle his ear.

"Don't pretend you don't like this, Misaki." Saruhiko whispers, "Your body is desperate for me to fuck it." Then, he playfully nibbles at Misaki's earlobe as he pushes a second finger inside him.

Misaki is unable to stifle a loud moan, becoming easily overwhelmed by all these different sensations, the friction on his dick, the feeling of fullness– then, Saruhiko removes his fingers.

A whine escapes Misaki's throat before he can stop it. He hates how eager he is for Saruhiko to fill him up. 

Saruhiko teases Misaki's entrance with the head of his cock, and Misaki is sure he's got that stupid smirk on his face right about now.

"Fucking get it over with already!" Misaki snaps. 

"So eager." Saruhiko purrs, making Misaki shiver.

The emptiness is soon replaced as Saruhiko pushes all the way in with one powerful movement. Misaki is unable to keep his voice down as Saruhiko hits him with a series of rough thrusts, sending tremors through Misaki's legs.

Saruhiko takes his hand off Misaki's dick so he can grip both of his hips, and focus on hitting that spot that makes Misaki cry out in pleasure every single time. 

"You take my cock so well, Misaki. Even if you haven't missed me, you've missed this."

Misaki hates that he can't deny those words, hates that he can't truly refuse him– Saruhiko makes him _weak._

"Ah, fuck." Misaki moans, drool running down his chin, feeling himself approaching climax.

Then:

"Come for me, Misaki." Saruhiko demands, voice low.

Misaki comes on command, his seed hitting the wall before him, followed by Saruhiko thrusting inside him a couple more times. He hears Saruhiko let out a low moan, then feels a warmth fill him.

Saruhiko pulls out, and puts himself away, while Misaki struggles to hold himself up, Saruhiko's come trickling down his inner thighs. 

Misaki's mind is mess as well as his body, but he manages to spit out three words:

"I hate you." 

Saruhiko smiles.

"Liar."


End file.
